


Bringing the Penguin Home

by aceofneverland



Series: Zsaszlepot Canon Divergence [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Gotham Violence, M/M, Murder, canon character death, pre slash but they're cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofneverland/pseuds/aceofneverland
Summary: After Oswald is released from Arkham, Zsasz goes to look for him and finds him where he least expects.  In his long lost father's home.canon divergence from season 2 episodes 15-17
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Victor Zsasz, pre-slash - Relationship
Series: Zsaszlepot Canon Divergence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637926
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Not Making Ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302731) by [youhavebeenwarmed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youhavebeenwarmed/pseuds/youhavebeenwarmed). 



> This work is inspired by three separate authors. The first two are people who a couple of years back responded to the same prompt, and these are the two I'm most inspired by:  
> Not Making Ghosts by YouHaveBeenWarmed  
> [Black Lace, Big Mistakes by Goth_On_Ham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304714)
> 
> The third was one that after reading these two I went searching for because I'd been sure there had been another fic where Oswald's buddies show up at the Van Dahl estate, so I want to give credit to that author as well even though I'm not pull as much from it:  
> [Amoral Young Men by Raven_Aorla](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630461)
> 
> After reading them both I just couldn't get out of my head - what if Zsasz had tracked Oswald down to the Van Dahl estate? What would have changed?

Candy let the door slam when she walked in. She was the only one who really ever let the door slam despite the fact that Zsasz always reminded her that one day it might keel over. Shitty doors like the one on Safehouse 3 were not meant to be slammed often. That and he could hear the squeak of her converse across the floor, probably dragging blood in. She’d yet to convert to boots like most of them, insisted that her beat up white turned pink converse were far more comfortable. Until they caused her to mess up, Zsasz wouldn’t ask her to change.

She dropped down in the seat next to him at the dining table, snagging a handful of his chips. He made a noise of protest, which she promptly ignored for kicking her feet up on the table.

“Need something other than my food?” he asked, raising a browbone at her. A sly smile twisted on her lips, a smile Zsasz had taught her when he figured her natural smile was a little too sweet for the Zsasz-team. Zsasz family? Gang? He’d yet to decided on a good name for them.

“I was out doin’ my job – low life kills ya know since Boss man went to the loony bin and old Boss man left town.” She grabbed another handful of chips, and Zsasz yanked the bowl farther away from her.

“You do know we have a list of high paying clients,” he countered, earning a shrug.

“I like the low lifes. Ya get to have more fun. Anyway, I heard a rumor that a certain Birdie got out of Arkham.”

Zsasz froze, hand halfway raised to his mouth. It was only a moment, barely a second, before he continued. He watched her, and she matched his gaze. His girls never looked away from his stare downs; it was part of how he found new recruits.

“You gonna find Boss man?”

“He’ll call us when he needs us.”

“Talker said that he didn’t look right. Didn’t look like Penguin.”

“Was it bad?”

He knew his voice was even, he was good at keeping his voice even, but Candy still smirked at him. She’d always been the best at reading him, but that was probably because she’d been there the longest … after Butch gunned down Trixie. 

“Said that he looked worse than when Mooney first picked him. He won’t last a day if that’s true.”

Zsasz pushed away from the table, grabbing his jacket from the back of the seat. He saw Candy snag the bowl of chips from the corner of his eye, and he rolled his eyes. No one respected his food around here. Checking his guns and grabbing an extra case of bullets, he headed to the door.

“Hey boss, if Boss-man’s really not good,” Candy called.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Zsasz wasn’t sure where a mind-fucked Oswald would go first. If Mooney was still around, that would have been the first place to check. Even Falcone’s place. But they were long gone. He debated going to Arkham, but they’d be no use. Bunch of idiots pretending like their PhD meant something. He’d heard the rumors, the talk. No one came out the same from Arkham, which only meant that finding Oswald would be first priority.

Someone dropped from a fire escape and Zsasz turned, gun out and safety off. A grin stretched across his face. Just Kitty-Cat, with a Wayne tailing behind. 

“Hi Selina.” He tucked his gun back away before stalking towards her. The Wayne kid tensed, looking for a fight. Zsasz tilted his head a bit, eyeing the kid. He didn’t look like much, but there was something … off. 

“What do you want Zsasz?”

His eyes darted back to Cat, who just raised an eyebrow at him. She never looked away from him, and he’d consider recruiting her if he knew she’d say yes. But Cat – she’d always been more of a lone wolf kind. 

“There’s talk that Penguin was released. Have you heard anything?”

“Oswald’s out of Arkham?” the Wayne kid (Bruce? Right?) asked. There was something laced in his voice. Not quite shock, not quite fear. So they hadn’t heard. Or at least she hadn’t heard when he was around.

“Might have heard something,” she said with a shrug.

Right. Always something with her, wasn’t it? Zsasz sighed, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a twenty. He held it up for Selina to see, and she stuck out her hand.

“Heard someone saw him going up to his old place.”

“Tabitha and Butch took that over.”

Selina shrugged, pocketing the cash. “Look, that’s just what I heard.”

Zsasz nodded and stalked past them. He could feel the Wayne kid’s eyes on him, following him. The kid’d be something big if he was hanging around Cat and sizing him up. His dad’d never been afraid either. Might bring Gotham some good, but it’d bring Zsasz a world of pain. Once he’d grown a bit. They still had time before he caused any real issues.

The place wasn’t too far away. Just a couple blocks down really. Zsasz shot a message off to his girls, setting a check in time. Butch and Tabitha were nothing – there goons even less, but he knew better than to underestimate. Check ins were the only reason he’d made it back to Safehouse 7 after he’d gotten shot. Stupid Task Force. 

The goons stationed outside raised their guns on sight, but they didn’t even get the safety off before they hit the ground. One. Two. Three. The goons by the door were smarter, just stepping aside and letting Zsasz pass. He recognized them – used to be stationed outside Oswald’s door. They wouldn’t be welcomed back once Oswald was back to his old self again, Zsasz was sure of it.

Tabitha jumped up first when the door opened, knife in hand. Ha, like a knife would do anything against the gun. Butch rose after her, the V Zsasz had carved into him still red. He’d done good work on Butch – what he thought was his best. Stupid Tabitha had to break through. Really, he should shoot her on the spot for all that she’d done.

Breaking Butch’s conditioning. Taking Mrs Kapelput. Assisting his stupid brother. His finger twitched over the trigger. It’d be easy.

But not yet.

“Was he here?”

“Who?” Tabitha snarled.

“Oswald. He’s looking for Oswald,” Butch said. Zsasz didn’t like the way he was looking at him. He should be cowering. Zsasz had broken him – he’d been easy to break. Butch should be terrified. But he was looking at him like he knew something Zsasz didn’t. Like he had no reason to be scared.

Tabitha snorted, and gooseflesh coated Zsasz’s neck. It’d be so easy. Sure, shoot her and Butch would come after him, but there was a table and couch between them. Easy escape. Of course, then Butch started moving. Zsasz pulled out a second gun, safety off in an instant. Butch stopped, now only a table separating them.

“I thought he was just a job for you. Falcone gone, makes sense to go to him,” Butch said. Zsasz raised a browbone and glanced towards his guns, reminding them that he could take the shot.

“Where is he?”

“He came by,” Tabitha said, a nasty grin spreading across her face. “Pathetic, quivering. Whoever had their hands on him really did a number.”

“He left,” Butch said. “Alive.” Tabitha moved, but Butch gave her a look. He knew better, Zsasz could see it. If he didn’t say Oswald was alive, there was no chance either of them would make it out.

“Had a little fun with him before he left. Not nearly enough since he killed my brother.” Tabitha had a wicked look on her face.

Zsasz’s hand moved only slightly before he shot, the bullet landing perfectly in her shoulder. As expected, Butch turned towards her first, giving Zsasz the chance to make it out. The goons by the door did nothing again. Pathetic. Cowards. They could at least do their job.

“Hey Zsasz,” one of them called just as he was walking out the door. “Call us when Penguin’s back?”

“I doubt you’ll be around,” he said before leaving.

So Oswald got out. He went to see Butch and Tabitha – brain-fucked and probably thinking they would give him a place to stay. Where would he go next? He hadn’t shown up at any of the Safehouses, and he knew that Zsasz and the girl were at 3 for the time being. They hadn’t moved since Oswald got locked away for that reason. He wanted to make sure Oswald knew where he was … just in case.

Candy and Liz had given him hell for it. Laughed it up, but in a gentle way. Liz’d clapped him on the shoulder after and told him good luck. Like Zsasz didn’t know. He didn’t need luck, didn’t believe in it anyway. Luck was for people who didn’t have skill. Luck was for people who were confident enough in themselves but didn’t want to pray to a God.

Besides, Oswald was Oswald. That wasn’t going to change. And really, none of the girls were surprised. Butch shouldn’t have been either. Zsasz had seen him when he was at the bottom of his game, two timing everyone to claw his way to the top. He’d watched Oswald fight and fight until he was on the throne, watched him go crazy when the Galavans got their hands on dear Mrs. Kapelput. Who wouldn’t admire the man after seeing that? After watching from the sidelines. 

It’d been an easy choice after Don Falcone stepped away. Zsasz would never have stepped away from the Falcones – Don had given him his start, had trusted him and believed in him. The loyalty Don Falcone had given to Zsasz, he’d never be able to repay. But he needed work, and he wasn’t the body guard kind. He hadn’t even really thought about following after Oswald. He didn’t even have to tell his girls before they shifted over as well. It was natural. It was expected.

But now Oswald was somewhere in Gotham, out of his right mind. Plenty of people wanted him dead, and if he wasn’t thinking straight – if he’d gone to stupid Tabitha and stupid Butch … Oswald wasn’t safe. And Zsasz couldn’t allow for that.


	2. Chapter 2

The metal door echoed when Zsasz rapped on it. He glanced out the narrow hall window, the early morning rays casting weird shadows. One almost looked like a bunny. It’d taken him too long to get here. He’d even had to go home, get a couple hours of shut eye. Though Liz had been the one insisting on that. 

It’d been good though. Sleeping for a bit had let his mind reset and when he woke he’d had a break through. Where would Oswald go after Butch and Tabitha – who’d been occupying what had been his home? Well, where had he gone after he lost everything to Galavan? Edward Nygma.

Zsasz didn’t get it. Nygma was a weird man, and worked for the GCPD. There was something off about him, definitely. He surely wouldn’t stay with the police for long, especially with the way he and Oswald had connected. No one normal connected the Oswald. See Jimbo – normal, _boring_ good-guy. No chance of connecting with Oswald. Zsasz? His girls? Nygma? All a little … tilted.

The door was loud as it was dragged open. Really – who thought a metal door was smart? You couldn’t sneak in and out of that. Though, he supposed it meant no one could sneak in.

“What? I’m busy?” Nygma snapped. He froze for a moment, taking Zsasz in. A realization dawned on him and he no longer met Zsasz’s eyes. Zsasz smirked, his mouth pulled wide. _Yes_ , fear him.

“Oswald. Has he been here?”

“He stopped by.”

Zsasz waited a moment before sighing and waving his hand.

“He stopped by, covered in tar and feathers. He was _happy_. _Nice_. It was weird. He said something about letting go of anger and being good. It freaked me out, and I’m in the middle of something … important. So I told him to leave.”

His gun was out before he fully processed it. Nygma’s whole body went rigid and it only made Zsasz more tempted to shoot. The fear, the intimidation. He **should** be cowering. 

“You turned him away?”

Nygma shivered, then shifted. He snarled at Zsasz, meeting his eyes again. “He was weird and going to mess everything up. He’s not my responsibility.”

“He trusted you.”

“I trusted the Penguin. Not the mess that showed up at my door. Now _leave_.”

He could kill him. It’d be easy. Just like it would have been easy to kill Tabitha. But Oswald _liked_ Nygma, for whatever reason. If he apologized once everything was sorted, he could be useful. They had cops on the payroll, but a forensic scientist could be useful … Zsasz supposed. 

But he’d kicked Oswald out. A broken, helpless Oswald. Zsasz would be _lucky_ to find him alive. He leaned in, watched fear flicker back into Nygma’s eyes – almost as though he was shifting between two states.

“If Oswald is dead, you’ll follow,” Zsasz said, his voice flat. He watched a shiver cross Nygma’s body. 

Satisfied – for now – he stepped back and slinked out of the building.

Zsasz didn’t know where to look next. Maybe Jim? No. Even if Oswald had stopped by looking for help, Jimbo would have turned him away. It was a shame. Jim really was a fun guy to mess with – a good foe. But he had to be just asshole enough to use Oswald. Dog eat dog in Gotham, sure. But Zsasz hated watching it, and he truly hoped that even with his brain a mess Oswald would no better than to ask Jim Gordon for help.

~

“You’re moping.” 

Liz dropped next to him on the couch, her head finding his shoulder immediately and her eyes trained on the black and white movie flickering across the screen. He didn’t know what it was – Yules had turned it on and didn’t turn it off before she left to hunt. 

Zsasz turned his head ever so slightly and met Liz’s eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he matched back. A staring contest – one that Zsasz wouldn’t lose. She sighed, her eyes darting back to the TV screen.

“We’ll find him,” she said, her voice softer. “All the girls are keeping their eyes and ears out. We know what he means to you.”

“He’s the boss.”

Liz snorted, shaking his shoulder with her movement. “Please, it’s never _just_ a boss. You don’t need a boss, not like that. You want bosses.”

“Yeah?” he challenged.

“Please, don’t act like we can’t see right through you. We live together. You don’t scare us, so we actually look.”

“What do you see?”

Liz shifted, lifting her head off his shoulder and turning sideways to face him. He turned his head to meet her eyes. She looked over his face carefully.

“I see someone who finds powerful men that he looks up to, who dedicates himself to them even though he could get _many_ more kills by himself. And it’s not just for the money,” Liz said. “Don Falcone, he’d trained you. We all know that. He trusted you more than a lot of people. But Oswald, it’s different.”

“No one can be Don Falcone.”

“You don’t want him to be,” she countered. She sighed and tilted her head. “Would you say it?”

“Doesn’t need to be said if you already know.”

“He doesn’t. Oswald doesn’t.”

Zsasz shrugged. He didn’t get it. The girls acted like it was a big deal – that what he had with Oswald, what he felt for Oswald… that it needed to be shouted. That he needed to profess it to Oswald. It showed in the way they always shared looks whenever Jimbo was around. It was stupid, really. Oswald was Oswald. He was special, and _precious_ (though Zsasz would never dare say that too his face). But he wasn’t fussed with ‘confessing’ or whatever the girls had in mind. He didn’t need that to be happy. He just needed Oswald to be safe and happy, and if Oswald wanted something else – something more. Well that was Oswald’s move to make


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed, and Zsasz was getting anxious. He had seven more tallies on his body and a thug in the basement of Safehouse 1. Candy was having fun with him, trying to get any information about Oswald. Some thugs had seen him leaving Nygma’s building, one said he’d seen him in the graveyard (another dead end), and then no one had seen him.

The girls … well they didn’t pester him. They knew better. But he caught them sending looks, sharing looks. It was getting frustrating. He didn’t want to have to have a talk with them, to tell them to knock it off. Liz seemed to be trying to get them to stop, at least. After their talk she had backed off, seemed to understand.

He was wet from the rain, but other than the cold he didn’t mind. He left his shoes just inside the door of Safehouse 8 though, not wanting to track mud on the carpet. Candy had been the one who convinced him that they needed to movie. They’d been in 3 for too long. It wasn’t good to keep to one place, not with the side jobs.

“Boss, I got something for ya!”

Zsasz froze for a moment before following Yules’ voice into the kitchen, perhaps a little faster than normal. He leaned against the door jam. Yules was sitting on the table, getting her toe nails painted by Candy who didn’t even bother to look up.

“Well?” he asked.

“I was out at the library, following a target for Mr. M,” Yules said, also not looking up at Zsasz. She reached out and stopped Candy, handing her a different bottle of nail polish. “I noticed this set of kids askin the front desk clerk for any articles on _Oswald Cobblepot_.”

She looked up at that, a smirk on her lips. Zsasz raised a brow bone at her.

“You get a name?”

“Wasn’t even hard. Didn’t even have to frighten the librarian. Apparently the boy is nasty and she was happy to ‘give him up to one of Zsasz’s’.” Candy pulled away from her painting to let out a low chuckle. Yules patted her head before looking back over at Zsasz and continuing. “Sasha and Charles Van Dahl. ‘pparently they live up in their step dad’s estate and rarely come out. Don’t know shit about what goes down in Gotham cuz the estate’s on the outskirts of town.”

“Liz pulled the address up for ya,” Candy said, gesturing to a piece of paper. A drop of the midnight sparkly blue nail polish plopped onto the table as she did. “She’s out on a hunt right now. Gonna check in at 2. We’ll hold down the fort so you can go get Boss-man.”

Zsasz snatched the paper from the table and started to head to the door before he stalled. If Oswald was at an estate, odds were good. Especially if they didn’t know much about Gotha. Liz had picked up a difficult case. She didn’t want Zsasz to know – he normally took the dangerous ones so the girls wouldn’t get hurt.

He placed the paper inside one of his boots before walking back to the kitchen, grabbing a slice of pizza from the fridge, and dropping into the chair next to Candy.

“I like the color. Is it new?”

“Snagged it off of the girl Mr. M paid off,” Yules said, beaming. Not at the nail polish, though. At the girl painting her. He sighed, patting them both on the head before slipping out towards his room. He hoped they were both being careful. Candy’d taken Trixie’s death hard. Yules had really helped her through, and he didn’t know if the other would stick around if something happened to one.

~

Zsasz called up Oswald’s old driver to take him out to the Van Dahl Estate. Luckily _he_ hadn’t turned over for Butch and Tabitha. He even asked if Zsasz wanted him to stick around for a quick getaway. Zsasz told him to stick down the road for an hour and if he didn’t see them coming out to head home. He had a kid to take care of, and Zsasz knew he liked picking her up from school. 

The Estate was nice. Not in the same way the Falcone place had been. This one was older, a little dusty, but still clearly wealthy. He knocked on the door and waited. He glanced around, taking note of windows and doors that he could see. Planters full of greenery that _could_ be useful if his guns emptied. There were no body guards, no security cameras. _Old school_ , isolated. Why was Oswald here?

The door was opened by an older lady who seemed to be a made of some kind. She looked Zsasz up and down, avoiding his eyes once she’d seen them. She stared at his clothes with distain. _Really_ old school then. None of Falcone’s people ever looked at his leather like that. Or maybe it was the two guns that were visible.

“Is Oswald here?”

“Ozwald?”

“Oswald Cobblepot.” 

There was movement behind her and Zsasz’s eyes darted. And older man, nicely dressed, clearly the Estate owner. He had paused behind the woman and was now moving to the door. He met Zsasz’s eyes, didn’t even look away. _Brave_. Not easily creeped out. He had Oswald’s eyes – warm, calculating, mischievous.

“It’s alright Helga, I’ve got it,” the man said, clapping her on the shoulder. The lady scurried away, clearly happy to be away from Zsasz.

“Oswald Cobblepot,” Zsasz repeated, his hand slowly inching towards one of his guns. The man wasn’t armed – clearly, but if Zsasz had to pressure him.

“Is here,” the man said, stepping aside to let Zsasz in. “I’m Elijah Van Dahl. I was bringing flowers to Gertrude’s grave when I found him. He’s been here since. Are you his friend? From _before_?”

_Gertrude. Before?_ Why was Oswald here, with these strangers? The man – who had Oswald’s eyes … **oh**.

Before Zsasz could answer the man (Oswald’s father, no doubt), there was a gasp from the top of the stairs. “Victor!”

Zsasz quickly turned, taking in Oswald. He was there, alive. He looked healthy, happy, but slightly off. Even a happy Oswald was never that … _smiley_. He was wrapped in a robe, clearly having just barely gotten up even though it was pushing into the late morning. Oswald was always dressed by 8, in case of emergency meetings. 

He limped down the stairs as quickly as he could and took Zsasz completely by surprise when he pulled him into a hug. Zsasz froze, thrown off by the physical affection Oswald never showed. The girls – they touched and hugged and rejoiced often. It was good to have trust in those you were shooting with. Oswald never had though. It took Zsasz a moment before he registered what was happening and wrapped his arms around Oswald as well.

Stepping back, Oswald was beaming – **beaming**. Butch, Tabitha, Nygma. They were all right. Oswald was – _off_. Nygma’d called it creepy. It wasn’t creepy. Different. Worrisome. Clearly the doctors at Arkham had done something to Oswald, but that was no matter. Whatever they had done he could undo. 

“Father, this is Victor Zsasz. He’s and old friend,” Oswald said, now beaming ( _beaming_ ) at Elijah.

Elijah held out his hand, and Zsasz took it. He had a firm handshake, a strong one. He seemed good, kind. He’d taken Oswald in, fed him (clearly), clothed him. But something felt … off. Gooseflesh was covering the back of his neck as though they were being watched.

“Victor, so good to see you. Oswald had told me about his life before, but was far too modest. Perhaps you can tell me some more honest stories that don’t downplay his success.”

“Zsasz,” he corrected. Only Falcone, Oswald, and his girls could call him Victor. Even the girls didn’t do it often. Liz was the only one still around that called him Victor – and she only did it when she was mad.

“Zsasz, my apologies. Please, come in. Any friend of Oswald’s is welcome here. Though, I must ask you leave your weapons at the door. Grace – she gets skiddish.”

Zsasz wanted to protest, but glancing at Oswald he bit his tongue. Oswald looked so _happy_ to see him, to be there. He looked healthy. And something was … wrong. He needed to know what, and he needed to do it carefully lest he hurt Oswald.

So he unclipped his holster and left the guns at the side table by the door. Well … the visible guns. He still had his one that was tucked under his jacket, the knives against the small of his back, the gun tucked to the inside of his thigh. 

“Victor, I’m so glad you came. I was beginning to think I had no friends left,” Oswald said, grabbing Zsasz by the arm and leading him further into the house.

“You’ve always got me, Boss.”

“Oh no, no. I’m not doing that anymore. I’m not your boss.” Oswald smiled at him, and Zsasz was tempted to go into Arkham and shoot everyone in sight. “You and I can discuss that later though. You’ll see, it’s good this way. But first, breakfast.”

Elijah was leading the way, ducking into the first archway and leading them to the dining room. The inside of the estate was much like the outside. Old, but wealthy. A little dusty. Clearly they hadn’t seen much of the world outside.

“Isn’t it wonderful here?” Oswald said. “I’m so glad you came.”

“You said that already Bo – Oswald.” It felt weird, saying his name. He couldn’t remember ever saying it out loud. It’d always been Penguin, or Boss, or some variety. Maybe back when Oswald was just beginning to claw, but that was ages ago now.

“Helga said breakfast was nearly ready, so it won’t be long now,” Elijah said, taking a seat at the head of the table. Oswald released Zsasz’ arm to sit at Elijah’s right, beckoning Zsasz to take the seat next to him. A seat that had it’s back to the archway. There were clearly more people coming – the maid Helga was adding another setting for him, but there were three others across the table. 

But Oswald looked at him expectantly, so Zsasz sat down, shifting slightly when the gun in his pants chafed just a bit. Oswald was smiling again, and while he wouldn’t call it _creepy_ like Nygma had, it was clearly off. 

The mischief. Oswald’s eyes, his smile, they held none of their normal mischief. Even Elijah’s eyes sparkled with it. But Oswald’s – Arkham had stripped him of it. Zsasz grabbed the napkin on his plate, letting it drop in his lap. He’d bring that mischief back.


	4. Chapter 4

“We have a _new_ guest, I see.” The woman’s voice was all kinds of wrong, and the way she spoke. Zsasz knew, he _knew_ this had to be the reason his skin was standing up. He shifted in his chair to look at the new comers.

There were three of them, lead at the front by a slightly older lady. Not as old as Elijah, but older than him and Oswald. _Gold digger_. Elijah, wealthy single man. The kids weren’t his, no way. There were two of them – Sasha and Charles most likely. They held nothing of Elijah in them. A gold digger for her kids? Still. There was no love when she looked at Elijah. Perhaps once, but now there was none.

“Grace, darling, this is one of Oswald’s friends. Zsasz.”

Zsasz smiled, pulling out his grin that had even bothered Don Falcone. The kids (they had to be in their early twenties) looked away and scampered to the chairs across from him and Oswald. _Perfect_. The woman – _Grace_ – tried to hold his gaze a little longer but she failed as well. She instead turned her eyes towards Elijah, giving him _a look_.

“As I told Zsasz, any friend of my son’s is welcome here,” Elijah said, a bit of bite in his voice. Good. That was good.

“He’s my only friend that bothered to come by,” Oswald said, his voice still _too_ cheerful. 

“I was worried. With how … everyone is,” Zsasz said. They seemed to know who Oswald was – the kids had done their research. But something was off, and he couldn’t set off too many red flags.

“You worked with Oswald before?” the boy – _Charles_ – asked while loading up his plate with foods that Helga placed in front of them.

“Yup.”

He could feel Grace’s eyes glaring into him as she sat, but as soon as he glanced her way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. _Perfect_. 

“Great,” Sasha muttered before letting out a whimper. Grace had clearly kicked her.

“I know you have worries, but I assure you Victor here poses no threat,” Oswald said, squeezing Zsasz’s forearm. It was weird – not normal. Oswald didn’t touch so freely.

“Is that right?” Grace said, viciousness lacing her voice.

“So long as Oswald’s safe,” Zsasz countered, moving to fill his own plate with food. He was starving, and he doubted they’d poison him. Elijah, at least, seemed to not bat an eye.

There was little talk over breakfast, and while Zsasz didn’t usually mind such silence it was clear that everyone was uncomfortable. Grace kept shooting looks at Elijah across the table. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t happy about Oswald, let alone Zsasz now. Sasha was refusing to look at either of them. She was _pissed_ about something. Something beyond just him showing up. Charles – he kept looking at Zsasz and Oswald before remembering himself and looking down. _Curious_. He was curious, unlike his female family.

And Oswald. He kept _fidgeting_. Oswald Cobblepot did not fidget. Not anymore. He was confident and powerful and demanding. But no matter, Zsasz could bring that back out. If he could calm Butch Gilzean, even for a time, then he could bring back the Penguin.

Helga cleared the dishes, but no one was moving. Grace and Elijah were still making looks at each other, and Zsasz was certain Elijah would win. He had the money. She couldn’t push.

“Oswald, my son. Why don’t you and Zsasz catch up? You can use my study if you wish.”

Oswald scampered to his feet, much like he used to when Falcone or Mooney was talking to him. “Of course, thank you.”

He grabbed at Zsasz’s arm _again_. **Again** with the touch. Zsasz stood though, making sure to look at Sasha, Charles, and Grace long enough to make them uncomfortable before he let Oswald tug him along. He could hear Sasha and Charles getting up and leaving too. So the _adults_ could speak. 

Oswald led him down a hallway and pushed open a door into a small but warm study. Bookshelves lined the walls and a fire was crackling in the corner. Oswald dropped onto the couch, and Zsasz followed after. His eyes skated over Oswald, checking for any injuries.

“You alright, Bo – Oswald?” he asked. “Really?”

“I’m great, Victor. Truly. My father! Can you believe it?”

“What happened?”

“I was visiting my mother’s grave and he was there -”

“No, I heard that. Before. Arkham, Butch.”

Oswald looked away, looked at his lap. _No_ , **no**. That wasn’t supposed to be how Oswald acted. He was supposed to be angry, to be plotting.

“Arkham – they made me better, Victor.” He looked up again, grasping at Zsasz’s hands. At least he still would meet Zsasz’s eyes, wasn’t looking away. “I – you – _we_ don’t have to be so angry all the time. Violence, anger, it just leads to bad things. I’m better now.”

Zsasz watched him, watched his eyes. His eyes that seemed so lifeless without the mischief in them. “You sure about that?”

“Positive. They fixed me. And look! I found my father.”

“Oswald.” Zsasz paused. He turned Oswald’s hands over in his own, trying to find the words. It was still weird, _touching_. Oswald didn’t let people so close – it was unsafe. All of Oswald’s guards were down, and Grace Van Dahl was a bad egg. “I’m not sure about all this.”

“I’m happy.”

Something in Zsasz fractured, just a little. For so long he’d seen Oswald sad and angry. Because of Galavan, at the loss of his mother. At Jimbo constantly using him. But this wasn’t right. This would only lead to Oswald getting more hurt.

“Let me look around, make sure your safe,” Zsasz said.

“There’s nothing that can hurt me here!”

“What if Butch finds you? Or Tabitha?”

Oswald laughed. It was a warm laugh, a weird laugh. “Don’t be silly.”

“Please, Oswald. For my own sanity.”

Oswald looked down at their hands. He wasn’t meeting his eyes. It wasn’t going to be as easy as Zsasz thought. They’d really gotten into him. He’d have to call the girls, see who was in charge of Arkham these days. Maybe they needed to be paid a visit.

“You’ll stay, won’t you? For a little while. I thought – I thought I had no friends left in Gotham.”

Zsasz pulled away from Oswald’s hands and hesitated for a moment before pressing one of his gloved hands against Oswald’s cheek. He let himself have that, let himself try to comfort Oswald in any way he could or maybe reach the _real_ Oswald. “Whatever you wish.”


	5. Chapter 5

The following night, Zsasz was invited to join Oswald and Elijah after dinner in Elijah’s study, though he didn't know what for. He suspected that Elijah had wanted to ask him after the first dinner they shared, but after the look Grace made when Elijah said 'of course Zsasz can stay for a while' - well it was probably good that Zsasz just scampered off to the room that Helga made up for him.

  
  
He liked Elijah. Despite his age, there was still a fire in him. He had a bit of Don Falcone in his manner, and the fact that he seemed content to do whatever to make Oswald happy - well that was good. He'd even dropped Zsasz's guns (sans bullets) off at his room. At least some random person (Grace or maybe even Charles) wouldn’t get their hands on his babies.

  
  
Elijah offered both him and Oswald drinks. Zsasz declined, not wanting anything that might subtract from his attention, but Oswald heartily agreed.

  
  
"So Zsasz, you worked with Oswald," Elijah said, grinning at the two of them.

  
  
"Father!"

  
  
"Yup. Met him way back at the beginning. We both were working under Don Falcone."

  
  
Oswald was looking at Zsasz like he'd rather stop him talking, but the way Elijah perked up. He was interested in his son's past, interested in what he had done. He wasn't sure how much the old man could handle on the gore side, but he was interested at least.

  
  
"So you watched him become famous?"

  
  
"I'm not famous."

  
  
"You're being modest Oswald." He was getting better at using his name out loud. Not Boss. "He ruled Gotham for a bit."

  
  
"And you tried to hide that from me, Oswald!" There was nothing angry in his voice, only shock and lightness. Zsasz wondered what it would have been like if Elijah had met his son under different circumstances. Would he have been proud? Maybe even come out from his secluded living?

  
  
Oswald was bright red. It was fascinating. It made the freckles across his nose and cheeks stand out, and Zsasz couldn't help but stare at them a little bit. It was bad. He was letting down his guard a bit with this weird, helpless Oswald.

"I did things I regret. Terrible things," Oswald said, his voice softer than Zsasz was used to. "I'm being better than that."

  
  
"You did what you did to survive," Zsasz said, and Oswald's eyes shot towards him. Zsasz shrugged. "I always admired that about you. Never let anyone sneak past you or kick you down."

  
  
"Resilient. Your mother was the same way. Even working for my parents, she never fell down. She made dishes my parents never would have tried if not for her insisting." 

  
  
"You're resilient too, father. You're fighting off an illness, living in spite of it!"

  
  
As though on a timer, or perhaps she was listening, Grace came into the room. She handed a glass and a little white pill to Elijah who took it without hesitation. The bottle for the pills was in her hand, but she didn't open it. Already had to pill ready. Zsasz watched her, curious. Why did she bring him the medication? Why couldn't Elijah do it himself?

  
  
Elijah waited until Grace left the room until he turned back to Oswald and Zsasz. His smile softened looking over the two of them, and it made Zsasz want to squirm. He didn't, but he wanted to. It felt like Elijah was seeing something, something Zsasz couldn't put his finger on.

  
  
"You know Oswald, Zsasz may be onto something. Your happiness, it means the world to me. Whether it means that you're here with me or you're out there, commanding the city."

  
  
With that Elijah rose, clasping Oswald's shoulder and then Zsasz's.

  
  
"Let me help you to bed," Oswald said, starting to rise, but Elijah waved him off.

  
  
"Stay with your friend. You young ones always manage to stay up later than I can."

  
  
Elijah smiled one last time before heading out of the room. Oswald sighed, sinking back down onto the couch, a little closer to Zsasz this time. He wanted to reach out, to touch, but not now. Now he had to be Zsasz, employee, assassin. He had to get through to Oswald.

  
  
"He's nice," he said, watching as Oswald light up.

  
  
"I can't believe I found my father. By accident!"

  
  
"The others ... what do you think about them?"

  
  
"Oh they're all so kind to have accepted me. I have a family, Victor. Can you believe that?"

  
  
Zsasz offered Oswald a smile, one of his softer ones, and was rewarded with a less blinding smile from Oswald.

  
  
"They haven't done or said anything strange?" he asked. "I just worry that they may be jealous of your closeness to your father."

  
  
Oswald started to shake his head and then stalled. Zsasz waited, watched. He could see Oswald turning something over in his head, deciding on whether to speak. He missed when Oswald would speak without thinking. Charm his way into any meeting.

  
  
"Sasha, she. Well the morning you showed up she tried ..." Oswald was bright red again, though far less from embarrassment. "She tried to seduce me."

  
  
Zsasz raised his brow bones, his eyes going wide. It followed with his gold digger theory. Get the girl to shack up with Oswald and they'd still be tied to the Van Dahl fortunes. Of course, there was no way that she'd ever seduce Oswald. For many reasons.

  
"I don't know what got into her! I mean, I'm basically her brother."

  
  
There. A little bit of a fire, a little bit of anger. It wasn't quite the same, but it was there. It was there, which meant that there was still a chance to break through.

  
  
"They want to ensure they have a place here," Zsasz said with a shrug.

  
  
"What? Why?"

  
  
Zsasz sighed. Arkham really had done a number on him, but there was hope still. "Elijah’s legitimate son shows up. He now is in line for everything. They would lose it all."

  
  
"I don't care about the money. I'm just happy to have a family, to have a place."

  
  
Zsasz wanted to protest that Oswald had a family back in the city, but he couldn't. Because did Oswald really? He'd lost his mother. He had men who worked for him, most only loyal because of the money. He had Zsasz and the girls, but Oswald never saw it that way. It wasn't like working for Falcone. Falcone was surrounded by people who were loyal to be loyal, not people who were loyal for the cash.

  
  
"Well I'm pooped. I'm going to get some sleep. You'll be here tomorrow, yes?"

  
  
"Yup. If you want me."

  
  
"I don't know what I'd do without you Victor. I don't think I realized before, but you - you've always been there for me."

  
  
Zsasz wanted to squirm again under Oswald's gaze, because this wasn't truly Oswald. This was a broken Oswald who needed to fly again. In his right mind, Oswald would never say such things.

  
"You'll tell me if one of them does something?"

  
  
"Of course, but you're paranoid. It's all that anger."

  
  
Oswald gave him one of the blinding, wrong smiles again and left the room. Zsasz stayed for a minute longer, thinking. He could go through the books in the room, but Elijah he trusted. Even if there were things he was hiding, Elijah’s intentions towards Oswald were pure. So instead, Zsasz slipped out of the study and began exploring the rest of the house. He was nowhere near tired, trained for only a few hours of sleep before he was up again. 

Perhaps there were some left overs in the kitchen? Exploring and investigating was always better with a full stomach. He slipped off towards where he’d seen Helga often disappear, finding to his joy that it was in fact the kitchen.

There weren’t left overs in the fridge – Zsasz suspected that the meals were made to accommodate those in the house exactly. However, there was plenty of food and he set about making himself a sandwich to prepare him for his night time explorations. 

Just as he finished making is _masterpiece_ , he heard footsteps from the doorway. Grabbing the bread knife from the counter he spun, face to face with Charles. Charles jumped at the sight of the knife, any confidence he had fading quickly. His whole face was read, and he wouldn’t meet Zsasz’s eyes. _Good_. 

Zsasz slowly placed the knife back on the counter, but Charles barely relaxed at that. He shifted. He was up to something.

“So, can’t sleep either?” He barely squeaked out the words, not looking at Zsasz. Oh, _this_ would be fun.

“Don’t sleep a lot. What has you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was just … thinking.”

Charles risked a glance at Zsasz, but he didn’t hold it. Zsasz pushed away from the counter, stalking closer to Charles. He didn’t back away from Zsasz’s advance, but he did flinch. He breathed, gaining strength for something. He raised his head, offering Zsasz a tight smile. _Oh_.

“I couldn’t get my mind off of you.”

Charles hesitated before reaching out and running his hand over Zsasz’s bicep. Zsasz allowed it, if only for his curiosity of where this would go. Charles wasn’t comfortable, and not in the way that _some_ people got skittish around “crushes” or other people they liked. No, this was different. This wasn’t attraction, this was a plot.

But why? Why go after Zsasz? Oswald was the target, the person they needed to get on the good side with or get rid off… **OH**.

“Is there something you want?” Zsasz asked. He watched Charles closely, peering into his eyes. Charles hesitated, looked away before stealing himself to look back.

Zsasz had to hand it to him. He was _trying_ , if poorly, to seem like he was trying to seduce Zsasz. He was trying to smile, to seem appealing. But it was very _very_ clear that he was uncomfortable, that being so close to Zsasz made him squirm. Was it a gay thing or just a Zsasz thing? That was the issue with being generally perceived as _creepy_ , you could never tell if it was internalized homophobia or not.

“I just wanted to get to know you better,” Charles said – _squeaked_ again. Zsasz took pity on him (and he was really hungry) and stepped back towards his sandwich. He could see part of Charles loosen back up, get comfortable again. 

“Why?” Zsasz asked before taking a bite.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to get to know me?”

Charles ran his hands over the edges of the counter. A habit, something to do with his hands so he didn’t have to focus on the conversation.

“Well, you’re from Oswald’s past. You come in, covered head to toe in leather and weapons. It’s … interesting?”

“Is leather something you’re into?”

Zsasz relished in the way Charles’ whole face went red and he stuttered over the comment. Really, if you were going to seduce someone to get your way, you had to play a bit better. 

“That’s not!” Charles protested, and huffed. Typical rich child. “How do you and Oswald know each other?”

“Worked for the same guy. When he retired, I started working for Oswald.”

“So you’re just an employee?”

“Not _just_.”

It wasn’t true. Well it was. He and Oswald were _friends_ , but the way Charles went red again and wouldn’t meet his eyes, he implied it differently. He implied it the way Zsasz wanted him too. That – that was the lie.

“So you’re … you and him are?”

“We’re what?” Zsasz took another bite, his eyes never leaving Charles who still refused to make more than a second’s eye contact. Charles huffed, _again_. His fingers darted over the knife Zsasz had dropped, and Zsasz tensed ever so slightly in case of attack. But Charles’ fingers kept moving.

“Are you together?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you … share a bed?”

“Are you asking if Oswald and I fuck?”

It was really _too_ easy to make Charles uncomfortable, and Zsasz was beginning to believe it was just a sex thing. The kids really didn’t get out of the house much, clearly, and Gracey-dear clearly didn’t give them the sex talk.

“I …” Charles stuttered.

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Ask the question.”

Charles steeled himself before meeting Zsasz’s eyes again. There was determination there, Zsasz could respect that. Even if he clearly was working against Oswald. “Have you fucked Oswald?”

Zsasz grinned, wide and most likely creepy given the way Charles quickly avoided looking at him again.

“Why are you here, Charles? Are you solicitating?”

Charles was coming around the counter. He kept his distance, still a half counter’s length away, but closer than before. He was _trying_ to be seductive again. Really, if Zsasz cared he’d send the kid to Liz to learn how to actually succeed in that.

“You see, Zsasz. Daddy dearest is dying, quickly. With Oswald in the picture, everything is up in the air,” Charles said, trying his best to maintain eye contact. So he was right. _Gold digger_. Charles didn’t wait, just continued talking. “But perhaps we can come to an arrangement that ensures my family is taken care of.”

He waited then. Zsasz raised a brow bone and waved his hand for Charles to continue, paying more attention to his sandwich than to the boy. He knew where this was heading, now that the rest of the story was falling into place. Charles moved forward, surprisingly. He was _almost_ as close as Zsasz had gotten earlier, though he was all kinds of tense again.

“See, we’re no good at these kinds of things. But perhaps if Oswald were to … _disappear_ , we could ensure you a cut of the money. And if you’re interested, me.”

Zsasz was surprised he went through with it. He stood up straighter, pushing his now empty plate away. He moved in, watching as Charles almost moved back. He ducked his head next to Charles’ ear before saying in a low voice, though not quite a whisper. Zsasz didn’t whisper.

“You’re offering yourself in exchange for me offing your brother.”

He watched as Charles’ gulped, his Adam’s apple _bobbing_. “Yes?”

Zsasz pulled back, dumping the plate in the sink before stalking towards the door. He paused at the doorframe, not looking back at a most likely surprised Charles.

“I don’t move against Oswald.”

He heard Charles spin on his heels, facing Zsasz’s back now. “He won’t ever love you, you weirdo!”

Zsasz looked over his shoulder, watching as Charles deflated back into a scared little boy under his gaze. “Don’t need him to.”


	6. Chapter 6

There wasn’t much Zsasz could find in the house without turning over the private rooms of Grace, Sasha, and Charles. Not that he looked that hard. His focus the next day was trying to break through with Oswald, get to the Oswald he _knew_. Of course, it was rather entertaining to watch Sasha and Grace try to goad Charles into coming for him again.

It seemed like he didn’t make it clear to them that Zsasz wasn’t to be swayed.

Zsasz stalked around the next night after everyone had gone to sleep, trying to burn off energy so he could actually sleep himself. Safe from prying ears, he settled at the bottom of the stairs and called the landline in Safehouse 8. Liz picked up.

“I assume you found him?” she said.

“He found his father, but I think his step family is too happy about it.”

“You sticking around there?”

“Until I know he’s safe.”

“And you’re not overstaying your welcome?” He could hear the chuckle in her voice, as well as the yammering of Candy and Yules in the background.

“Elijah, his dad, likes me. Likes Oswald. He’s interested in his past.”

Zsasz could hear some shuffling and it was Yules’ voice who came through next. “How fucked up is the bird?”

“Arkham did a number on him. I need one of you to figure out what you can about the doctors stationed there.”

“We gonna get to play with them!” Her voice was bubbling with excitement, and while Zsasz had planned on dealing his own set of punishments … well he couldn’t deny her.

“If we can get them.”

He heard Yules cheer in glee, and Liz take the phone back over while Yules (most likely) went back to Candy to start digging.

“You all doing okay?” Zsasz asked.

“Mr. M gave us some trouble. Wanted to pay us yes, but we showed him that wasn’t okay,” Liz said. He could almost picture her twirling the phone wire while she talked, probably looking over the other girls. 

“If you need me there, just call.”

“You got stuff to take care of up there,” Liz said, probably shrugging.

“You need me, I’ll be there.”

“I know boss. But focus on Boss-man. We can take care of ourselves. If Arkham really fucked him … he needs a friend. He needs someone who cares.”

Before Zsasz could reply there was a ruckus, a not-quite scream that sounded much too much like Oswald. Zsasz was on his feet, bidding Liz a quick goodbye as he thundered up the stairs. The only thing he could think of was that one of the Van Dahls had taken the Oswald situation into their own hands. His gun was out before he got to Oswald’s door and he shoved in.

He found Oswald alone, panting and pressing his forehead to his knees. Glancing around the room a second time just to be sure, he tucked his gun back away and moved towards the bed. He hesitated before sitting down, Oswald looking up when the bed tilted.

“Boss? Oswald?”

“Just a nightmare, Victor.” His voice was still short, and he wouldn’t meet Zsasz’s eyes.

Zsasz shifted so he was sitting cross legged in front of Oswald. He reached out, grabbing Oswald’s hands in his, probably crossing too many lines. Oswald didn’t pull away though, and he actually met Zsasz’s eyes.

“I keep seeing all I’ve done. All the people I’ve killed. It’s going to kill me, Victor. It’s going to eat away at my heart, just like my father.”

Zsasz squeezed, probably too tightly, but it seemed to ground Oswald more. He met Zsasz’s gaze stronger, his knees relaxed a little, as did his back.

“Am I a bad guy?” Zsasz asked.

Oswald shook his head quickly. “No. Of course not. You’re the only person who came for me.”

“But I’ve killed people.”

Oswald opened and closed his mouth, so Zsasz asked again. “Am I a bad guy.”

“No.”

“Is Jim a bad guy?”

“No.”

“If your dad had killed someone, would he be a bad guy.”

“No…” Oswald’s voice shifted as he put together where Zsasz was going. He wasn’t meeting Zsasz’s eyes again, so he squeezed Oswald’s hands until he looked up.

“You’re not a bad guy because you killed. Everyone in Gotham has killed, or will kill. It’s what Gotham is.”

“Doctor Strange said -”

“He’s wrong. And I’m sure he’s killed.” _Doctor Strange_. Zsasz filed that away, made note to text it to Yules to aid in her research. But that wasn’t the matter now. “What did they do to you?”

“They fixed me.”

“You weren’t broken before.”

Oswald made a non-committed noise that Zsasz couldn’t interpret.

“Why do you do that?” Oswald asked.

“What?”

Oswald sighed and he squeezed Zsasz’s hands back, tight and sure. “Why do you like me when I’ve done such horrible things?”

“I’ve done horrible things too,” Zsasz said. Oswald looked at him though, and Zsasz knew he wanted more of an answer. He could say it, say what the girls always pestered him to say. But no. This wasn’t about him. “Oswald, you are one of the most admirable people I’ve met. You fight for yourself, you don’t let people push you around. This – this isn’t you. What the doctors did to you … they broke you.”

“They fixed me. They made me better, I’m trying to be better.”

“And you’re going to get hurt.”

Oswald ripped his hands away from Zsasz, pressing them against his knees. He wouldn’t meet Zsasz’s gaze. Zsasz sighed and stood up off the bed. He paused, reaching out and squeezing Oswald’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to see people hurt you because Arkham destroyed your self-preservation.”

“No one here is going to hurt me.”

Zsasz almost told Oswald right there, almost told him that Charles tried to hire him. But no, **no**. Oswald wasn’t ready for that. It would just break him more.

“Good night, Oswald.”

“I’ll see you in the morning?”

Oswald sounded so weak, so broken. It wasn’t alright that he sounded like that. 

“Of course, Boss.”

Oswald didn’t correct him.

~

He hated the way Oswald was looking at him right now. He could barely stand to look at Oswald.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? Victor, please. If this is about last night.”

Zsasz shook his head. He hesitated before placing his hand on Oswald’s shoulder. It was supposed to be a simple platonic pat, but it lingered and Oswald seemed to relax a bit underneath it.

“I’m coming back. I just need to check on the girls.”

“Of course of course.” Oswald didn’t seem convinced though. 

“They’re my family. I just need to check in with them and make sure they don’t need anything.” Zsasz’s voice was soft, or at least soft for him. It felt weird, talking like that.

Oswald’s eyes lit up a bit and he squeezed Zsasz’s hand that was still on his shoulder.

“Of course. I understand. You’ll come back, though? Father would miss you dearly. I – I would miss you.”

Zsasz smiled, a soft little smile. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I want you to! You’re my friend. Perhaps my only friend.”

“You have Nygma.”

“Edward turned me away when he saw me. You went out of your way to find me.”

Zsasz felt something warm in his chest settle. He hadn’t been jealous of Nygma, no. Jealousy was a sad emotion, one that made people lose control. But it was nice to hear that he was above the scrawny forensic scientist in some way.

“I promise, Oswald. I will be back. It’ll be a day, two at most.”

Oswald nodded. He still looked sad. Zsasz hated seeing him like that. He shouldn’t be sad, shouldn’t be upset. But he needed to check on the girls. He needed to get started on the Arkham research, and he needed to see if any of them had ideas about Oswald. Most of all, he needed a breath. Seeing Oswald like this …

He’d known Oswald was special, precious to him. Seeing him more fragile than even when they first met, it shifted something in Zsasz even more. Seeing someone who had been at the top now at their lowest. He needed to clear his mind, needed to make sure he was on his best game. For Oswald.


	7. Chapter 7

Five days after Zsasz had first arrived at the Van Dahl estate, he was knocking at the door again. He’d been smart this time, not wearing any weapons out in the open so not to get chastised by Helga or given odd looks from the step-Van Dahls, as he’d taken to calling them.

Helga opened the door to greet him, offering him a … it wasn’t a kind smile but it wasn’t a nasty smile either. She didn’t hate him, which he supposed was a good thing. He’d seen her give Grace some pretty nasty looks. 

“Mister Van Dahl and heir are in his master suite. Mister Van Dahl is making him a suit.”

Zsasz raised an eyebrow at that. He vaguely remembered someone saying the Van Dahls were master tailors, though he’d been zoning most of the history out. A family that had secluded itself wasn’t of interest to him. Still, Oswald would fit right in with his father’s family’s style. 

Zsasz slipped pasted Helga. He spied Charles and Sasha, Sasha shoving Charles towards him. He ducked past, though he didn’t think it would stop being funny. Charles looked so out of place, so awkward whenever it happened. 

Oswald’s suit was … frankly it was _hideous_. The cut was flattering on him, and even shaped his busted leg well. But the pattern. Zsasz wore leather _religiously_ and he knew that checkerboard green was not **okay**. But Oswald was beaming, and so was Elijah.

“Zsasz!” Elijah said, as he stepped back to admire his work. “I was just fitting Oswald for a suit. He insisted on seeing my work.”

“Isn’t it lovely, Victor?”

They booth looked so pleased with themselves. “It really is something,” Zsasz said. He moved towards the pair.

Oswald reached out and snagged one of Zsasz’s hands, holding it in both of his in a way that was far too sweet for such a public gesture – for Oswald at least. He’d never seen the kingpin so gentle with anyone, let alone himself. Perhaps Jim, but even then, Oswald kept his hands to himself. Perhaps because he knew Jimbo would react poorly. Stupid Jim, blind to it all.

“I’m so happy you came back,” Oswald said.

“I said I would.”

Elijah looked as though he was going to speak, but he began coughing instead. It wasn’t nice coughs either, but loud, painful ones. His face contorted, and everything moved fast. Oswald rushed towards his father, easing him into the chair and hollering for help. Zsasz left the room, eyes darting around until he spotted Grace.

“Call a doctor,” he snapped, and luckily Grace didn’t resist. Clearly she didn’t think a public move against Elijah was smart. At least she wasn’t a complete idiot.

Aside from sending Charles to try to get him to move against Oswald. That was stupid. Even Butch knew better than that, and Butch was muscle, not brains.

Elijah was moved to his room, which Zsasz noted was separate from Grace’s. No love in this marriage for a while. The doctor arrived quickly, clearly spurred on by the money or perhaps by family loyalty. When Elijah said that the lawyer was to be called for the next day, the look in Grace’s eyes was that of the devil’s.

The move would be tonight. Zsasz needed to act, to save Oswald from whatever pain the step-Van Dahls had in mind. Whether that be physical for him, or emotional through Elijah. They wouldn’t be removed from the will. Stupid Elijah, blind to the jealousy of his wife.

Jealousy. What a stupid emotion.

Grace was caught up with the kids and Oswald was staying with Elijah, so Zsasz took the time to slip into Grace’s room. It was boring and empty, and there was nothing incriminating. Smarter than he first thought. The only thing that seemed odd was the tin can of mints in her bedside table. Who keeps mints by their bed when their bathroom is right there? Didn’t people keep them in their pocket or purse or car? Really, was she that anal about having a fresh tasting mouth.

Suddenly Zsasz’s own mouth tasted weird, so he snuck a mint before slipping out of her room. Helga was there when he stepped out, and he froze. His eyes went wide, but Helga didn’t say anything at first. She just watched him. After a moment she spoke.

“I like Mister Oswald. He makes Mister Van Dahl smile,” she said, and Zsasz nodded. “Mrs. Van Dahl is not nice. If she is doing something, you will make sure she pays?”

“Yes.”

Helga nodded and continued down the hallway. Zsasz let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Who knew that an older housekeep could be so threatening? 

Elijah didn’t make it to dinner, which made it a very awkward affair. Oswald tried to fill the silence, the looks of annoyance from the step-Van Dahls going over his head. If Zsasz was more of a talker, he’d try to fill the silence just to annoy them more. But he wasn’t much of a talker. So instead, he just kept his eyes on Oswald and nodded along to keep the little bird talking. It seemed to make Oswald smile, which was good. 

After dinner, Elijah came down much to Oswald’s protests. He insisted to have a talk with Oswald in his study, and though Oswald spared a glance at him, Zsasz stayed back at least for a bit. The step-Van Dahls had scampered off somewhere, which was not good. Not good at all. He ducked around the house, even ran into Helga, but neither of them knew where the others had gotten off to.

Instead of continuing his search, Zsasz returned to the study to ensure that everything was alright. He walked in, the two men looking up, but not saying anything. Elijah was pouring a glass of wine, holding it tight it up.

“But your heart!” Oswald protested.

“Let me live a little,” Elijah said, downing the drink.

Zsasz moved, sitting on the arm of the couch by Oswald. Nothing seemed off in the room, so perhaps the step-Van Dahls had backed off. But then Elijah started coughing. Again bad, but different than when his heart had been fighting him.

He collapsed to the ground and Zsasz moved quickly, checking for a pulse and trying to remember what to do. Gunshots, knife wounds, anything with blood he knew how to deal with. This – this was not his expertise. Trixie had been the doctor, but she wasn’t around anymore thanks to Butch.

Oswald was screaming, which attracted the step-Van Dahls from wherever they’d been hiding. Something crashed – the container of alcohol. Someone had knocked it over, perhaps Oswald in his frantic haste.

There was no use though. Zsasz knew that. There was no time for a doctor, no time for anything. He stood carefully, turning towards Oswald who was looking at him with watery eyes.

“I’m sorry, Os. There’s nothing I could do.”

Oswald latched onto Zsasz, his face buried in Zsasz’s chest as he shook and sobbed. Zsasz glared at the step-Van Dahls, who looked surprised but not sad.

“I’ll make some calls,” Grace said, and she had at least the nerve to look somewhat disappointed. Offing her husband before he could change is will. Offing her husband and breaking Oswald more than he already was.

She left, and the twins weren’t long behind. Oswald was still shaking. Zsasz gave him time to calm down, no words he could come up with. He wasn’t the best at this. There was a reason why Yules had been better at comforting Candy after Trixie. He wasn’t good at making people feel comfortable.

But Oswald had seemed comfortable with him the past couple of days, more than he ever had before.

“Come on. You don’t want to stay here.”

Oswald let Zsasz lead him back to his room. He found the clothes Oswald had been sleeping in and ushered the man into the bathroom. Once Oswald re-emerged, eyes red and puffy but drier than before, and settled in his bed, Zsasz made to leave. He’d keep watch over night, make sure that none of the step-Van Dahls got any ideas.

“Stay. Please.”

Oswald’s voice was so soft. So broken. Not the same way it had been broken after Gertrude had died – that had been an angry broken. This was a hopeless broken. He’d lost his family, and Zsasz heart broke for him. He couldn’t imagine losing his girls, his family. He couldn’t imagine losing them all so quickly as Oswald had lost his mother and his just found father.

Zsasz dropped his jacket on the chair by the door as well as the guns at his sides. He left the knives at his back and the gun in his pants – they weren’t safe in this house, especially with Elijah gone. He kicked his shoes and socks off. He made his way towards the bed, where Oswald was looking up at him with so much sorrow, but also hope. Protection. He was looking at Zsasz like he needed Zsasz to protect him, to keep him from the pain.

Zsasz climbed in without a second thought. Oswald immediately curled into him, and Zsasz wrapped his arms around his again shaking frame. 

“You were right. I got hurt.”

“Hush. This wasn’t your fault.”

“His heart gave out.”

Zsasz suspected otherwise, but he wouldn’t say it. Not now. Not when Oswald was grieving. Not until he had proof of foul play. So instead, he just pulled Oswald closer together.

“Get some sleep,” he said.

“You won’t leave me?”

“Never.”


	8. Chapter 8

Elijah already had things in motion for his death. Oswald had said that Elijah promised him year together, but clearly he knew otherwise. Or Grace did. Either way, the next day there were already plans for Elijah to be buried. Oswald was quiet when they got up. He didn’t mention Zsasz staying the night, didn’t talk about the funeral. He just got dressed. Zsasz left him to do so, going back to his own designated room.

It didn’t look like anyone had gone through his things while he’d been away for the night. He searched through the small bag he’d packed for himself, pulling out the most appropriate clothes he had for a funeral. There were better pieces, back at some of the Safehouses. He hadn’t planned for a funeral though. He’d planned to be his normal intimidating, leather-donning self.

He stayed at Oswald’s side, partially because he didn’t trust the step-Van Dahls but mainly because he just couldn’t bring himself to leave the little bird’s side. He wanted to get Oswald back, to get the anger and power. But he was slipping more. He didn’t have the walls to keep him from hitting rock bottom.

It didn’t hit Zsasz until they were standing outside the church. Of course! He was such an idiot! Stupid Zsasz. Stupid, stupid Zsasz. **No one** kept mints in their side table. He spun towards Oswald just before they entered, stopping the other man.

“I need to go back to the house,” he said, watching as Oswald’s face crumbled.

“Now? Victor I – I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You’re the strongest man I know.” He paused for a moment. “And I’m going to fix things. There’s something that needs to be fixed.”

“You’re coming back? You’re not leaving?”

Zsasz shook his head, squeezing Oswald’s hands. “Of course. I’m just going to fix this, all of this.” Fix you. I’m going to fix you.

He didn’t expect to be gone till the end of the funeral, but the time it took to get to the Estate and back was more than he expected. By the time he was pushing into the church, the step-Van Dahls were leaving, Grace looking especially smug. She paused, looking Zsasz over with a dark expression. He wanted nothing more than to shoot or stab her right there, to get rid of that look. To make her fear him. People didn’t look at him that way – with no fear.

“Oswald may have weaseled his way into staying at the house, but you are _not_ invited back,” she hissed.

Zsasz didn’t know what Oswald had done or said, but he didn’t care at the moment. He shoved past her and her devil children and moved towards Oswald. Oswald who was clutching his bouquet of lilies still, looking both sad and happy at the same time.

“Grace is letting me stay with them, so long as I work around the house,” Oswald said, as though that were good. As though Oswald ‘The Penguin’ Cobblepot should be treated like a god-damn Cinderella.

Now wasn’t the time to get angry over that, to get angry over Grace treating Oswald less than even Mooney had. At least Mooney had seen what Oswald could become. No. Now was time to get _his_ Oswald back. He wrangled the medicine bottle out of his pants pocket, popped it open, and shoved a pill at Oswald.

“Eat it.”

“What! Victor, what are you doing?”

“Eat it.”

“That’s my father’s medication!”

Zsasz just raised a brow bone and shoved the “pill” at Oswald again. Oswald huffed and took it, tossing it into his mouth. Zsasz watched him carefully. His face shifted, slowly. Realization dawned on him on what he was eating first. Confusion next, over why, oh why. And then – and **THEN**. He could see the shift in Oswald’s eyes. Could see the _mischief_ returning and casting the sorrow out.

“She replaced them with mints.” Oswald practically growled, and it sent shivers down Zsasz’s spine. 

“Charles also tried to get me to turn on you.” There, oh yes there. Oswald’s eyes were practically aglow with his anger, with his **power**.

“Can I kill them now Boss?”

Oswald held up a hand and shook his head. While Zsasz’s heart sank a bit, the light in Oswald’s eyes kept him hopeful. “She was killing him slowly, and they – _they_ treated me, us like shit. She took the last of my family away from me. I want them to have something special.”

Oh **yes**. Zsasz was nearly vibrating, his mouth stretching into a shark-like grin. This was **his** Oswald. The Oswald that didn’t let anyone get one over on him. The Oswald that had turned on Mooney, Maroni, everyone. The Oswald that had viciously clawed his way onto the throne of Gotham. The Oswald that had shoved an umbrella down Galavan’s throat.

Zsasz was allowed to take out the twins. They were easy to find, lounging in _Elijah’s_ study as though nothing had happened. Oswald watched on with glee as Zsasz sliced a knife along Sasha’s throat and then stabbed upwards through Charles’ chest to get at his heart. Guns were better in some cases, but a knife. That was personal. Besides, Oswald said bullets wouldn’t do for what he had planned.

It was twisted, fucked up, and completely and utterly **brilliant**. Any conditioning from Arkham had to be gone if Oswald could come up with something so absolutely twisted. It made Zsasz chuckle. It also made him want to grab Oswald and kiss him until they both forgot to breathe, but no. He wouldn’t cross that line. 

Helga wasn’t there to help them sneak around, but luckily Grace was dealing with some lawyers. She didn’t notice that Zsasz was still in (technically, though lose technically) her house or that he and Oswald were carting her precious children’s bodies off to the kitchen.

They had too much fun chopping them up. Zsasz let Oswald take the lead, enjoying how completely _demented_ he was with the butcher’s knife. He was glowing with vengeance, with anger and power. No one would mess with the kingpin again. Oswald was back, and there was nothing that would take away from this.

Zsasz mainly sat on the counter while Oswald futzed around the kitchen. He was _humming_ , actually humming. It warmed Zsasz to the core to see Oswald so happy in a way that was natural for him.

“You’re smiling,” Oswald said, pausing from rubbing the seasoning into the meat pieces.

Zsasz shrugged, his eyes boring into Oswald who didn’t look away. Instead, Oswald just looked back. He stepped away from the counter he was at and moved towards where Zsasz was sitting. There was a distance between them, more than there had been over the last six days, but Zsasz wouldn’t comment on it. Oswald hadn’t been in his right mind before.

“I wanted to thank you. You not only went about to find me after I was released from Arkham, but you stood with me. You worked to get me back to myself. You kept me safe from my step family.”

“Just doing my job, Boss.”

Oswald shook his head, smiling. It was a natural smile, an Oswald smile. “You could have walked away. I can trust you, more than anyone else. That’s going to be important for what comes next.”

“What’s next?”

Oswald just shook his head, moving back to the meat. “First, making sure Grace pays for what she did to my father.”

~

Zsasz watched from the kitchens as Oswald laid the roast out on the table in front of Grace. She didn’t seem pleased by the pieces of meat, complaining about them, though Zsasz could tell it was in part just to be cruel. It made him want to shoot her from where he stood. But no. She was for Oswald. He deserved this kill. Zsasz was lucky to get the twins. He hadn’t marked them on his skin yet, hadn’t had the time, but he knew where they would go. 

Right above his heart, the empty void on his chest he saved for special kills. Like Sasha and Charles Van Dahl. 

“Where are the children? Ring the bell again,” Grace chided. It’d be so easy to just pull his gun out. She wouldn’t even know.

But no. No. He had to leave this one for Oswald.

“I doubt they’ll hear it.”

“You look different.”

She was right. He did. He was holding himself up, he was glowing, he was … planning, plotting, preserving. No, not preserving. Stupid alliterations. No matter, the weakling that Strange had created was gone, and Grace had noticed it. Even if she didn’t see all the little things that Zsasz did. Like how he’d put on the _awful_ suit Elijah had made for him. May his soul rest, but the pattern was still terrible.

“Charles, Sasha!” she called before turning towards Oswald. “Where are they?”

“Do you know why Victor missed father’s funeral?” Grace looked like she was going to interrupt, but Oswald cut her off. “Because he thought ‘why would Grace keep mints in her bedside table.’”

Zsasz saw the color drain from her face. His heart sped up a little bit. Fear, true fear on Grace Van Dahl’s face. **Finally**. 

“You were poisoning him slowly! I don’t know how you got him to pass away before the lawyers got her, but I know what you were doing, Grace,” Oswald spat.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” she said, barely audible from where Zsasz was in the kitchen. He wanted to step closer, to hear better, but not yet. He’d frighten her away.

“You should have covered your tracks!”

She tried to stand, but Oswald grabbed the carving knife, pointing it at her. Zsasz slipped out from the kitchen. He needed a good view of what would come next. He loved watching Oswald kill. It wasn’t like Falcone, who only killed when it was truly personal. Oswald killed whenever he felt he needed to, and it was _delicious_ watching him get worked up. She didn’t even notice Zsasz stalking into the room, her focus on Oswald.

“Sasha! Charles!” she cried out, pathetically. As though they’d come. As though Zsasz and Oswald hadn’t already taken them out.

“They won’t come.” Oswald was close to laughter, Zsasz could hear it in his voice.

“Where are they?” she asked, breathy. Scared.

“You thought they tasted the same! But Sasha, definitely more tender.”

She was pleading now, and Oswald was feeding off of it. He was leaning over her, preparing for the punch. Preparing for the kill. Like a lion, snapping at a stupid antelope who bit off more than they could chew.

He brought the carving knife down, blood splattering across his face. He brought it down again and again _and again_. Once he was well and sure that Grace breathed no more, he finally looked up. He caught Zsasz’s gaze, and Zsasz smiled. He stalked forward towards the kills.

Oswald laughed, head tilted back. It was cold and chilling. It was menacing. The blood on his face looked beautiful. Stark red against pale skin. If situations were different, he would have walked to Oswald and cleaned him up. But watching was good. 

“Now, we get Gotham back.”

**Author's Note:**

> More will be coming for these two little love birds (ha). Right now I have 2 more planned. A short one shot from season three, and a piece about this length for season four.


End file.
